Chilly's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

The flyer still lay near Chilly's feet. He knew where the guitar player waited now. He knew the trail started at that repair shop. But knowing meant nothing while people saw a toy. Each night the arcade powered him down and walked past him without a glance. If no one learned he was awake, no one would ever carry his message to the others. He needed to be seen. He needed one person to notice. That night the door rattled long after closing. A boy slipped inside, quick and low, the way someone moves when he has done it many times. He wore a backpack and stared at everything at once. This was Timmy, the neighborhood kid who bragged that no one ever caught him. He crept between the machines, counting prizes under his breath. "Nobody locks up right around here," Timmy whispered. "Pretty much never. That is just not okay." Chilly could not speak. He could not move his flippers. But the arcade had left him with one thing they forgot. His song chip still held power. During the day, a coin made him sing. He forced the current inward, the way he once forced a stiff joint to bend. His chest hummed. A single note leaked out. Timmy froze. He turned toward the prize counter and stared at the penguin standing beside the teddy bears. "You made a sound," he said. "You are turned off. I saw them turn you off." Chilly pushed again. The note wobbled, then held. His beak clicked twice against its hinge. Timmy stepped closer. His eyes went wide. "You are awake. That is not how machines work. I know machines." He pressed both hands on the glass. "Okay. Okay. Something is going on in here. Something big." Chilly's foot nudged the crumpled flyer. It slid an inch across the floor. Timmy's gaze dropped to it. He crouched, snatched the paper, and smoothed it against his knee. He read the words on it. He looked at the broken guitar player in the picture, then back at the penguin. "Penguin animatronic repairs," Timmy said slowly. "This is like you. You want me to see this. That is what this is." Chilly clicked his beak once. Yes. Timmy grinned. He folded the flyer and shoved it into his pocket. "I find out everything. Everything on this street. And now I found you." He backed toward the door, still watching. "I am coming back. Tomorrow night. You and me are going to figure this out." The door shut behind him. The arcade fell quiet again. But something had changed and would not change back. For the first time, a person knew Chilly was awake. For the first time, someone else held the flyer and meant to act on it. Chilly stood in the dark and waited for tomorrow.